I whipped my head towards the door at the sound of a knock.
“Hey,” he called, voice soft. “Can I come in?”
I found myself giving a small smile. “Yeah, sure.”
And a moment later, he was settling beside me on the floor, neither of us saying anything. It was like that for a long time – the both of sitting on the floor, shoulders brushing lightly, all the while enveloped in silence. But it wasn't the kind of silence you felt the need to break. It was a different kind – one that was oddly comforting.
“You might have noticed that I'm not exactly my dad's biggest fan.”
Seeing how his features flashed with mild surprise, I figured he hadn’t been expecting me to say something – at least, not anytime soon. But he responded anyway. “Yeah, a little.”
I gave a small nod, quite unsure of what to reply. So, again, I let us sink into the silence. But this time, it was a lot shorter, as my voice soon sliced through.
“I hate him.”
He didn't say anything, he simply stared at me, his eyes not holding any kind of silent reproof like Carla’s usually did. Instead, he looked at me like he wanted to really see me, and not just hear me.
Ok, that didn't make much sense.
But what I could say clearly though, was that whatever it was, I realized I actually liked it. It was calming, relaxing to say the least. And it definitely made it a whole lot easier to continue speaking.
“I wish I could say those words and mean them – I hate him. But I can't. Because what I actually hate is the fact that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to, I can't hate him. I should hate him for his lifestyle; I mean, my dad's a fuckboy! How awesome is that?” The sarcasm was practically dripping from my voice at the question.
“I should hate him for having a new woman everyday after the divorce was barely finalized. I should hate him for fucking our family up, for breaking my mom the way he did, for making a joke of our relationship. I know I should hate him for all of those things.”
I stopped to suck in a breath, only to add, “but I just can’t.” My voice was barely higher than a whisper now, and I hated that I sounded so stupidly frail. But I just couldn't help it.
Hawk, on his part, didn’t say anything. However, I could sense his focus on my every word, almost like he was soaking it in, that he was really listening. And I was grateful for that.
Talking about my dad was something I hardly did – I found it difficult to. So, if he’d decided to constantly cut in while I spoke, I doubted I'd have been able to continue talking. Hence, my gratitude.
“Sometimes, I try to make him blow off at me. I guess there’s a part of me that wants to hear him say he doesn't want me the same way he didn't want my mom. But even when I'm cold to him, when I’m being difficult – in fact, no matter what I fucking do, he never says or does anything to hurt me. No matter how hard I try to push him away, he's always there.
You know, he still calls me every night whenever he's away on business trips. He never misses a single call. At 10pm every night, regardless of the time zone, regardless of his schedule at that point in time, he never forgets to call. And the funny part is that half the time on those calls is spent exchanging half hearted smiles from me, and awkward ones from him. I mean, our conversations can rival that of an opera.”
I thought back to all his calls, and of how we’d stay staring awkwardly at each other after getting past the usual: ‘How was your day? How was school? How was work?’
And after enduring two to three minutes more of the awkward silence, we’d say our byes. Well, there were also the I love you's from him which I always left unanswered.
Now though, I was saying, “he’s always the first to wish me on my birthdays. Never a minute early or late – always exactly at midnight. And he's never missed a single year. Not even once.
And I know I might sound like a stupid rich brat, but sometimes, I just wish he'd give me a reason to hate him as a dad. But he hasn't. He was a horrible husband, but not a horrible dad. But I just feel like I need to be mad at him. It’s pretty crazy – I also don’t get it sometimes.”
If I was expecting Hawk to try comforting me by telling me something along the lines of how much my dad actually loved me – you know, the way Carla usually did, I was in for a big surprise. Instead, I felt his arms gently wrap around me, pulling me into his chest.
I didn’t protest, nor did I didn't make any teasing remarks, I simply accepted the silent comfort he offered, letting it wrap over me like a huge blanket.
Hawk, on his part, was now saying, “I can only imagine how hard it must have been, because you’re the one who’s had to deal with all that. And no one can understand it better than you.
But one thing I know is that parents can be complicated. Sometimes, you want them near you, other times you just want them to leave you alone, and at yet other times, you'll probably want to exchange them for other people.” He finished with a soft chuckle, and despite myself, I couldn’t help but chuckle a little too.
“You know, my parents, they’re…” He trailed off thoughtfully, as though trying to find the proper adjective to describe them. But in the end, he settled for: “they're crazy.”
“What?” I echoed between chortles, still quite in disbelief at his remark.
“No, it’s true,” he mused lightly. “My parents are a crazy duo. I mean, one time when I had the rash as a kid, my dad thought putting me in the fridge would help me ‘cool off.’”
“No,” I started, face beaming in amusement.
But his response came as: “Yes.” And if anything, that just left us chuckling. “There's this picture of me from when I was about seven months old. My parents thought it'd be a good idea to photograph my first real food.” He made air quotes at the last two words before going on.
“Only problem was that my first real food was corn on a cob. And it was so bad because I had literally one tooth, and I had a huge corn cob in front of me which I was expected to eat. Whenever I look at that picture, the only thing I think is: what the hell were my parents thinking? I mean, seriously, what were they thinking?”
I couldn't even reply if I tried; I was too busy bubbling with mirth to do so.
Now, however, a small smile remained on his lips as he continued. “But I guess despite all that, they have their good sides – a lot of them actually. They had me when they were eighteen. Barely out of high school and they were already on the road to becoming parents. It wasn’t exactly easy, ‘cause they were still so young and inexperienced, and pretty broke too.” The last part came out as more of a chuckle.
“But they did their best in raising me. And it wasn’t any different when my sister came along two years later. Yes, they might have some…questionable parenting styles, but they're always there for us; they'd do anything for us. And I guess that’s one of the things I love about them.”
Perhaps, it was because of the glint in his eyes, but I found a small smile make its way to my lips as I listened to him talk about his parents. “And besides,” he continued. “If you think about it, despite all their eccentricities, I still turned out pretty normal.”
At that, I made a show of rubbing the back of my neck unsurely. “Ehh...I mean, normal is a bit of a stretch though,” I quipped with a sly grin, to which he shot me a playful glare in response.
Although, a moment later, his lips were betraying him in a laugh which was soon echoed by me.
But in the decline of the bubbly sounds, he said, “we don't get to choose the kind of people our parents turn out to be. And sometimes, they might not turn out exactly the way we’d like them to. But still, no matter how they are, there is always going to be a side to them that we love and admire.”
His words left me sinking into a moment of thoughtful silence. I suddenly found myself thinking of all the admirable things about my dad. He was driven, patient, caring – at least he cared even when I didn’t. He was intelligent and humble too, and yeah, he was really good at running his business.
I remembered one time when I was eleven. We were on a family vacation but there was a big crisis at the company, and so my dad had to rush back. Of course, we couldn't continue the vacation without him, so my mum and I returned with him.
On our arrival, we didn't even stop at home first, but instead went straight to the company. Well, my dad had his assistant arrange his work clothes for him, because it sure would have been weird as hell if the CEO called an emergency board meeting, only to show up in beach wear.
I obviously couldn't go into the meeting with him, but I stood watching him through the glass. I could still remember how awed I’d been, watching how he spoke with such eloquence and persuasiveness, watching how he’d sometimes stop to cast meaningful stares at each and every person seated in that room, and how they'd nod in agreement to something he’d say – clearly enamored by him.
And in that moment, I decided I wanted to be just like my dad; I wanted to run the company like him one day. Gosh, thinking about it now, the words sounded strange to me, even ironic – ‘just like my dad.’
Given what he was now, I doubted I'd like to imitate his cheating ways. Yet, that part of him which my eleven-year-old self stared awestruck at, was still there. It never did go away. But did I still feel the same way about it now as I did then?
Not quite knowing the answer to that myself, I instead returned my attention to the boy beside me. “I doubt I still know how to love my dad, Hawk. It’s almost like I’ve forgotten how to,” I admitted softly.
“But you said you don't hate him either. So, if you don't hate him, then…” His lips trailed off in a meaningful smile, leaving me chuckling a little.
“You should be a counselor.”
His reply came as a chortle. “You know I'd probably end up like Mr. Hendricks, right?”
Mr. Hendricks was our school counselor. To be honest, I still wasn’t sure how he was able to secure the job. It’s not that he was bad at his job per se, the only problem was that when you went to him for advice, he'd first narrate tales of his own life when he was younger, or worse still, his life now. And trust me, both versions were equally sad.
So, if you went into his office hoping to get advice to help you feel better, you'd probably leave his office as someone who ended up giving him advice to help him feel better about his sad life.
Hence, why I couldn’t help laughing at Hawk’s remark of turning out like him, with Hawk himself echoing the sound from beside me.
Somehow, sitting on my room floor and laughing with Hawk, I felt whatever remains of the pressing ache in my chest from earlier, slowly disappear, so all that remained was a refreshing lightness.
And I knew that I had a certain gray-eyed boy to thank for that.
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I lay face up on my bed, the day’s events replaying in my head. After Hawk left for his place, I decided to go into my dad's study – it was his favorite place to be whenever he was home. Anyway, I ended up having a little talk with him.
And by ‘little talk,’ I meant a two-minute conversation that went like: ‘I'm sorry for flipping out on you, although I'm not sorry for doing so, because you know I hate when you bring your affairs home.’
And from my dad, was an apology which I wasn't quite sure how to respond to. So, in the end, I simply nodded, managed a tight-lipped smile, and let him pull me in for a reconciliatory hug. After a few hesitant seconds, I wrapped an arm around him too – although I was quick to pull away.
So, yeah, we were good. I still wasn't ready to play happy father-daughter time with him, but based on the kind of relationship we had now, we were good.
And usually, it’d take a day or two more before that happened. Well, that is when he'd make the move to come apologize to me first. But let's just say a certain Hawk I knew, made me decide to make the first move today. And from the look on my dad's face, I could see that it meant a lot to him.
Now, though, I was snapped back to the present by the blaring of my phone. One look at the Caller ID left a flash of surprise coursing through me, but it was soon replaced by a small sense of excitement as I slid the answer button.
“Hey,” I started, hoping my voice came out as coolly as I thought it did.
“Hey, B. What's up?”
“Nothing much. I was just about to sleep.”
His reply came as a small: “oh.” And then: “trust me to choose the worst time to call.”
“No, it's fine. Besides, I'd probably end up counting to like 800 sheep before I fall asleep,” I mused between chuckles.
“Been there,” he quipped, chuckling a little himself. But his tone assumed a more serious edge. “Are you okay now? You left pretty quickly earlier today, and I was worried I might have said something to make you upset.”
Oh my god, I totally forgot about what happened earlier today. With the whole dad drama, I guess that just got pushed to the back of my mind. Hence, I was thankful that Jason remembered enough to even try checking up on me.
“Of course not. You didn't do anything wrong, if anything, I should be the one apologizing. I practically ran off – sorry about that. The thing is, hearing you talk about dads and stuff, I wasn’t really sure how to respond. Let’s just say my dad and I are kind of having some issues right now, and I was still pretty pissed off at him.”
To be fair, that wasn’t exactly a lie though, but it wasn't exactly the truth either. But at least, it was a thousand times better than not saying a word – which was exactly what I’d done earlier.
“I'm sorry to hear that,” Jason was now saying. And I could tell he really meant it, thus leaving my lips to upturn in the smallest of smiles. He had nothing to be sorry for though, but trust Jason to always be so sweet – I guessed that was one of the things I liked about him.
“It's fine. Besides, we're cool now.”
Again, not a lie, but not exactly the truth either.
But thankfully, it was good enough for Jason as was clear from his response. “Well, that’s great.”
“Yeah. So, how's your girlfriend?”
Need I say I facepalmed myself the moment the question left my mouth? How’s your girlfriend? There wasn’t even anything leading to the question.
Way to go, Brooke! You couldn't have thought of a worse approach.
“My girlfriend?”
Despite the fact that I was cringing at myself so badly right now, I'd already eaten the fish to the tail, and was left with no choice but to finish it.
So, I said an oh-so-innocent: “oh, my bad. I just thought you and Trina are dating or something, because you know, you guys are always together and stuff.”
Kill me!
My only consolation through my absolute mortification, was that he couldn't actually see the way I shut my eyes after I finished speaking, regretting everything I ever said.
Jason, on his part, just gave a small laugh. “Brooke, Trina's not my girlfriend. You know we've been working closely together for our Art project and all, so we're just really good friends.”
I chose to skip over the ‘good’ part, beaming at the most important words: ‘just friends.’ But to Jason, I tried not to seem too happy about it. Keyword being ‘tried.’
But I doubted he noticed given that he was currently occupied with something else. “Hey, Rosco, you know you shouldn't be doing that,” he chided gently.
I found myself asking, “who’s Rosco?”
“He's my dog,” he answered, an unmissable fondness in his voice. “He was just messing with some of my stuff; he can get a little mischievous sometimes, but he's a pretty cool guy.”
“He sounds cute,” I gushed, truly meaning it. “I've always wanted a dog.”
“Really?”
I nodded, only to whack my head after realizing he couldn't actually see me. So, I instead settled for saying, “yeah. But my parents never let me have one because of what happened with my grandma's dog.”
“What happened with your grandma's dog?”
“Well,” I drawled. “Ok, so when I was five, we went to my grandma's place for the weekend. And I tried to get my mom and grandma to let me give them a makeover, but they wouldn't let me. So, I asked my grandma's dog if she wanted one, and she said yes. Alright, technically she barked, but I'm fluent in the dog language, ok?”
“Uh huh,” came his amused reply.
“So, of course, I gave her a makeover. I took my mom’s makeup kit, and there wasn't a single thing in that kit that I didn't apply on her face. And she looked great. But my parents didn't think the same. For some reason, they were horrified when they saw the dog with her new look.”
I pursed my lips at the memory. I’d gotten an earful from my mom. Pfft, parents. No one even asked the dog how she felt about it.
“And that’s why when I said I wanted a dog, they were scared I wanted one just so I could turn it into my personal doll,” I continued. “So, they didn't agree to get me one.”
By the time I was done, Jason was already laughing. And despite my initial protests, I soon found myself laughing alongside him.
“One time, my little brother wore Rosco, my dad's favorite jersey because he thought it matched his tag. Rosco ended up getting ketchup all over it, and my dad nearly went nuts when he got home and found his jersey all messed up.”
“To be fair, he did it for fashion though. You can't get mad at him for matching,” I offered between chortles, with Jason laughing softly alongside me. “You know what? I actually like your little bro.”
“Yeah, it's hard not to,” he mused fondly. “But he can be a real pain in the ass sometimes. Like…”
And so, we went on and on, talking and exchanging stories. I realized then that I'd never had that with Jason before – to just talk freely without fear of giving away too much.
And now that I was, I wouldn't deny that it felt nice. It was like I was actually letting him see me, and not just see the me I wanted him to see.
Did that even make sense? But I don't know how else to describe it.
Hawk said in a relationship, being able to express yourself freely was important. With Hawk, I could say anything I wanted – it was easy. There was a natural flow to how I conversed with him. Maybe that's why sometimes, we didn't need words to understand each other.
Thinking about it, maybe the problem with my relationship with Jason was that we could never really understand each other – although for different reasons. He, because I never actually gave him the chance to, and me, because I never actually took the chance to.
But now, I was going to do things differently. In fact, I already was – and I was hoping it’d remain that way.